


the screaming in my mind (keeps carving a place for you)

by charliebradburyismyspiritanimal



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Character Study, Doctor Who Feels, Episode Related, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Loneliness, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 22:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15129347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliebradburyismyspiritanimal/pseuds/charliebradburyismyspiritanimal
Summary: He’s overwhelmed by the silence surrounding him, and the continuous screaming in his head.





	the screaming in my mind (keeps carving a place for you)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I really am. This sorta got away from me, I don't really know. Inspired by 4x02.

The Doctor isn’t used to loneliness. He’s been lonely before, he’s been lonely for ages. But he’s never gotten used to the ache. The agony of being alone for millennia.  The empty void in his mind that needs to be filled by the presence of others eats at him from the inside, clawing at the sides of his head, desperate for another person. Ever since the war, since he became _the last_ , the void has been there, searching for someone to take up the place in his hearts and his head that his family, his  _people_ , used to have.

 

He goes half-mad from it, his mind screaming for companionship. So he travels, and he meets people, occupying his time, trying to stop the screaming. He makes friends. And he takes them with him on his travels, his  _companions_. They stop the screaming, if only for a few years. But he loses them all. To time.

 

It’s ironic. The thing that he lords over, the thing that he boasts control of, the one thing that he can’t fix is the one thing that steals away everything from him.

 

He was alone for the longest time when he met Rose Tyler. The screaming in his head got louder. And then a flash of blonde hair and terrified eyes, and he offered his hand, and said the word that changed his life: “Run.”

 

Rose was different from the rest of them. She filled the void more completely than anyone else had before. They traveled, and she brought out the best in him, and he brought out the best in her. He did everything he could to protect her. She said she would stay by his side forever, and deep down inside, he allowed himself to hope. He began to believe her. He grew closer to her than ever. He fell in love with her.  

 

And then he lost her. She was ripped away from him, and he was alone again.

 

He traveled more, pushing away all thoughts of blonde hair and a bright smile. He grew lonelier, and the screaming grew to the loudest it had ever been.

 

He met Donna Noble, and she made him laugh, and she was awful and spectacular at the same time. He became hopeful the more he got to know her that she would make the screaming stop, just for a little while. But when the offer was extended, when he let his walls down a little more, she refused. She didn’t want to go with him, and the hope to stop the screaming was dashed.

 

A visit to the hospital changed everything, and he gained a new companion, Martha Jones. But he was more closed off, and he lied, and he kept things from her. He couldn’t bear to lose someone else, so he couldn’t get _close_ to anyone else.

 

But she pushed, and she pushed, and she got him to open up, and he grew fond of her. He became her friend, even though he knew she wanted more; he could see it in her eyes. He couldn’t have another Rose, _no one would replace Rose_. So he pushed her away once more, pretended he didn’t see the looks she gave him. And because of it, Martha left him too.

 

_They keep leaving him. He keeps losing them._

 

He always ends up alone. The screaming is constant, always there.

 

He finds himself talking to empty air more and more. It used to be habit, sharing his thoughts. Rose would always listen, always there for him to lean on, asking her questions. Martha often contributed, freeing a thought locked away in the back of his mind. Talking out loud when he had them, that was normal. But not now.

 

Now he’s sharing his thoughts with ghosts, memories, shadows of his past. It happens more often than he realizes.

 

He announces out loud where they’re traveling to, before realization sets in that it’s not  _them_ , it’s just  _him_. When he arrives on new planets and in different times, he’ll start talking about customs, and the date, and the people, ready for a bold statement from Martha, a witty reply on his tongue. Martha never says anything, and he turns to find an empty space beside him. Martha’s not there and she never will be again. _She made her choice_ , he reminds himself. _She’s not coming back._

 

He finds new trinkets, and when he brings them back to the TARDIS to analyze, he tells Rose every detail, awaiting a response, listening for her lilting voice to ask the questions she so often does. When the question doesn’t come, he looks up, and he closes his eyes when he sees the emptiness of the ship. Rose isn’t there. _You lost her_ , he tells himself. _You lost her because you risked too much. She almost died because you didn’t think_.

 

He’s losing his mind to the screaming, to the emptiness. _The loneliness_.

 

Sometimes, he’s overwhelmed by the silence surrounding him and the continuous screaming in his head, by the lack of their constant presence by his side.

 

Sometimes, he’ll talk even more to fill the void; endless, mindless blather that takes his mind away from their absence.

 

Sometimes, he screams, washing away the emptiness with resounding noises that match the endless noise in his mind; screams that echo through the TARDIS, and ring in his ears.

 

Sometimes, he cries. Those are the worst days, when he can’t handle the thought of them being gone, of them leaving him. He sobs for hours, letting the screams in his mind consume him, his tears fueling the loneliness that the screaming thrives on.

 

But mainly, it’s the talking, the chatter that he expects a response to, and never gets one. He forgets, he keeps forgetting, but deep inside he  _knows_ , he knows he talking to no one. He’s having a one-sided conversation, with people who will never respond.

 

The screaming in his head never stops. He doesn’t think it ever will. He loses everyone. He’ll always end up alone, the screaming in his head his only real companion.

 

Every lonely monster needs a companion. And the loneliness is his. 

**Author's Note:**

> Again, sorry. Hope you liked it, though. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
